


Crosswords and Breakfast

by rainb0wprincess



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: Angst, Cute, Love, M/M, apology, let's get scooping, post ep4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-20
Updated: 2014-10-26
Packaged: 2018-02-21 23:33:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2486330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainb0wprincess/pseuds/rainb0wprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This what I believe will happen after ep4 of 'How to get away with Murder', because, really, that can't be the ending of Coliver. I refuse to believe it. I hope you enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silence

_“Oliver, that guy, he was just sex… but you, you’re more than sex … – I – don’t make this a bigger deal than it is” – “Get out” –“Oliver!” – “I said leave”_

_“I said leave”_

The words were ringing in his ears. The door slammed in his face. And the worst part is that he knew Oliver had every right to do so. _“that guy, he was just sex”_ actually, he was less than sex, and the only reason his mind kept going on about him was because he felt responsible for his death. Because he knew, somehow knew, that Pax was acting weird and that his attraction that he showed towards him wasn’t because he found him attractive. Connor has played too many games in his life to not recognize something like this. And when he saw Pax getting on the window sill, he froze, when he could have said something, or run and grab him, but he just watched, saw the crazed look on his face as he realized his life was over, and didn’t do anything. Pax had been less than sex for him, but now this man would be forever on his mind, because he watched him die. Saw the insides of his brain on the pavement, and the last look on his face.

The last look on Oliver’s face, as he shut the door, was so much more painful though. _“you, you’re more than sex, – I – “_ I like you and all I could think of while I was with him was you and I justified being with him because I’m scared of being close to someone and I knew I was getting too close to you and – _for god’s sake trusting someone is scary_. But he couldn’t say it. Couldn’t reveal it. That, actually, Oliver is so much more than sex and Chinese take-out and he felt like he already revealed too much when he confessed liking him. _“I like you, actually_ …” Connor sinks to the floor, tries to wipe the hot tears like it would lessen pain. This was it now, this horrible bursting feeling inside him, this pain, this cramp somewhere beneath his ribs, cracking and breaking all the masks and barriers he’s built up for himself throughout the years. All it took was a look in the mirror for him to see what he truly was. And Oliver held up this mirror for him and he cracked. He covers his face in his hands, tries to hide the broken sobs, silence them, silence the pain. Silence.

The pain doesn’t stop. And sometime in the night, he realises that it won’t. Lying on the kitchen floor, shivering, either from the cold or his crying, which turned into mere gasps for air and then before long, into nothing. Silence. As he watches the moon light fall in through the window and turning his white floor ice blue, and to the tune of the relentless ticking of his clock, he realises there won’t be an escape. Not this time. He swallows, as the gravity of this hits him. How could he possibly fix this? He has never learned to love, never learned to forgive, never learned to be forgiven, only ever played a game that he now realises he was bound to loose. He clenches his fist, closes his eyes tentatively, and feels the sting of his sore eyeballs against his lids.

 _Come up with a plan._ People have fights and then still figure out a way to make up, don’t they? _I don’t know, maybe my parents could tell me something about that._ His throat is dry. He unclenches his hands, notices how his fingernails have dug deeply into his skin, and gets up slowly. His muscles ache at every movement. He slowly fills a glass with water, but when the first drop hits the back of his throat, he almost chokes, coughs, tries to put the glass down but misses the counter. It springs into tiny pieces on his floor, littering the white stone, shining like blue jewels in the moon light that illuminates his misery.

He doesn’t even know why he tried to avoid stepping into the glass, he thinks, crouching, as he scoops it into the bin with his bare hands seconds later. The water runs across steadily the floor. He gets up, turns around and faces the moon light. A shiver runs down his arms, wrapped in the shirt that Oliver pushed towards his chest seconds before he slammed the door shut. Slammed it shut and didn’t reopen it, like before. He looked down at the street, completely empty save for a taxi hurrying through the night. _Hurry._

He turned around, seeing the Oliver in his mind from a couple of days ago, from when he burst into his apartment, after his morning run, where he realised he wanted to his first conversation today be with Oliver and not someone from work, he wanted to see his smile, his face, but he had been too scared, so he showed up and tried to reduce the nervous flutter in his stomach to the blood rushing towards his dick and turned his hands reaching for Oliver into hands reaching to take his clothes off. Like every other time. No wonder Oliver had asked him if he was a sex addict. _No, I’m not addicted to sex. I just want you._ He blinked a couple of times, ignoring the discomfort this time, and walked towards the door, grabbing his jacket and his keys off the floor, slipped into his shoes and shut the door quietly behind him. He grimaced slightly. His hand lets go of the cold door handle, and he heads towards the stairs, ignoring the elevator opposite him.

Just two hours later he opens his door again, out of breath from taking the stairs, as he places his shopping on the counter, and heads towards the shower. He tosses his black shirt and trousers in the corner, not sparing them a second look. He scrubs himself, and uses a lot of the body wash he thinks Oliver likes best, ‘thinks’ – because he could never muster up the courage to ask him, because it would have proven to him that Oliver is so much more than sex, than information, than someone in his bed at night. His reflection looks ragged; his eyes are swollen, if slightly less red now. He covers his face in his towel, seeking comfort in the dark, before spinning around. He quickly gets dressed, navy trousers and a pale shirt, putting on shoes before making his way to the kitchen so he can safely ignore the rest of the glass splinters. Occasionally, the look of concentration on his face gives way to the, but less so over time. He checks the time, and knows he doesn’t have a lot left before Oliver will go to work. He grabs his things, and bolts for the door.


	2. Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor apologises and Oliver's reaction

More stairs. The blinds at the end of the hallway rustle as he walks past, and slowly making his way towards the door with the number _303_ on it, in shining metal, and he feels a chill up his spine as he nears the spot where, not so long ago, he was .. – He dry swallowed, and lifted his hand with a heavy heart to knock. He tries to compose himself, hide his fear, and he almost manages to smile his usual grin, though a little more strained than normally.

He knocks, twice. He can feel his composure cracking, and bites his lip. He can’t break down now. There was a time for crying, and it was over. Muffled sounds come from the other side of the door. His heart speeds up, his teeth let go of his lower lip and reveal the tiniest spot of blood forming. He’s not allowed to break down. He has to apologise to Oliver, properly, Oliver deserves that much, he can’t be choking on his words. His hand is still floating in mid-air, as the door cautiously opens. Connor’s eyes travel upwards to meet Oliver’s, whose are slightly puffy, he notices, with a sting in his chest.

Connor wets his lips, trying to get the right words out, because he doesn’t want that door to shut again. Oliver clenches his jaw, frowns somewhat, but then rests his right hand on the door handle, and his left one on the frame. He will give Connor some time to, but the door is not quite open yet. Connor nods slightly, takes a deep breath, and meets Oliver with his eyes again.

“I’m sorry. For sleeping with this guy. For not letting you in. For using sex as an excuse to see you all the time, because I was too scared to admit to myself how much I liked being around you. For not telling you properly that I like you. For not being there for you in the same way you are for me. I’m .. –“

He stops, closes his eyes and frowns. It’s not enough. He looks up again. “I know this isn’t good enough, .. – “ He sighs “Oliver I’ve been terrified of liking someone half my life and since I’ve met you I kept wanting to run from you and towards you because I like you and you are great, honestly, I like how you smile and how your chest rises and falls when you sleep and I could spend hours staring at the little mole on your neck but whenever I caught myself doing so, I tried to brush it off to just being attracted to you, but– “ he stops again, searches Oliver’s face for a clue on his thoughts. He looks tired.

The look of desperation Connor has tried to hide so well hits his face with full force. “Please, I promise I will change, I will stop acting like I don’t care about you and like I don’t want to be your boyfriend, because I do, I really do, and” His words are falling out of his brain through his, cluttering onto the floor; after having gone over them the whole night he now can’t control them, and curses himself for it. “I’m sorry for sounding so rubbish but I spent half the night lying on my kitchen floor and then the other half I spent preparing a breakfast for you because I was hoping you might still want to do things normal couples do?”

He now lifts the bag filled with food, and the smell of fresh croissants wafts towards the door. “I didn’t make coffee because I thought getting that here might be difficult. But I brought this” He reaches into the bag and pulls out the three magazines of Crosswords, and tries to smile his usual cocky smile, to make Oliver fall for him again like he did in the first night. His eyes betray him however, and he can feel the hot tears forming by his lashes so fast he knows it’s pointless to try and hide them.

“You really think you can come here, bat your eyes and I’ll get on my knees like some sad twink?” Connor winced, recognizing the sentence immediately. Then, he was still able to wiggle his way out, put on a smirk, but he already felt the rising suspicion that his superiority wouldn’t last long. Not when the door slammed in his face and it had felt like a punch in the throat. And then the door had slammed shut again. There would be no more forgiveness, no more, the next time he would see Oliver’s smile would be in his memory.

He looks down, not ready to face Oliver, not ready to see the disgust, the anger that was likely to be in his eyes. His vision becomes blurry as the tears finally make their way down his face. He can feel the hot stream on his cheeks, but since he can barely even make out his own or Oliver’s feet, he closes his eyes as his last bit of self-control withered away and he lets his tears run free.

Until they don’t run free, because they are stopped by a hand, two fingertips brushing against his face, then another hand, a thumb rubbing across his cheek, touching the corner of his mouth, then a whole hand, cupping his face, pulling him forward by his chin to lean into – into a soft kiss on the cheek. One hand is removed, and he can feel the cold air even stronger where it used to be. When did it get this cold? It felt like being on his kitchen floor again. The other hand still radiated a gentle heat, a steady warmth, unlike anything that Connor has ever felt before, so he focuses on that. Now the other hand reappears on the low of his back, pushing him forward, and Connor opens his eyes and can just about make out Oliver’s face, and its filled with something like concern maybe, and the second hand is lifted off his face and gently tugs at the bag in his hand, while the other pushes him into the apartment. Connor parts his lips to say something, but can’t make out any words in his brain yet. He is too surprised that the door hasn’t been shut in his face again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any feedback or stuff I should improve, please tell me, and I'll work on it! Thank you so much for reading my fanfic, this is the first proper one I've ever written and honestly, seeing the hits and kudos this morning totally made my day :3 lots of love xxxx


	3. Raspberry Jam

He lingers in the doorway, barely dares to enter, as the familiarity of this place hits him with all its might. Oliver’s flat had always had a very distinctive scent, made up from his furniture maybe, or food, or whatever washing powder Oliver used, then of course Oliver, everywhere Oliver, his skin, his clothes, he could smell him so strongly now that he would probably never forget this scent.

Oliver has gone towards the counter, opened the bag, and is taking out the croissants, finding the raspberry jam, Connor had noticed that Oliver only had raspberry jam in his cupboards, staring at the glass as he turns slowly on the spot. “Raspberry jam? Why exactly did you buy this flavour.” Oliver crooks his eyebrows inquisitively. Connor clears his throat, – “I –I saw that you had raspberry jam in your cupboards and no other flavour of jam so I thought you might like raspberry jam best, and –“

God he sounds pathetic. He is basically on his knees begging for forgiveness, a second chance, admitting he had made a mistake – multiple mistakes actually, he listened them while sobbing on Oliver’s doorstep. He’s never been this vulnerable. Made himself that vulnerable. Not for at least 10 years. Was he just making the biggest mistake yet, would he be looking back at this as the most stupid thing he’d done his entire life? Well, nothing was won if he bolted now, he made a decision, now he had to stick with it.

_Try, Connor, try to open yourself to someone again, you need to move on, I’m sorry I could never love you, but right now, I’m worried for you._ Connor tries to swallow the lump in his throat. “Is it your favourite flavour of jam? What food do you prefer?” He asks Oliver, the simplest question, but he hopes Oliver will see how much more he means by it, –. “Yes it’s my favourite, sometimes I even have it with chocolate spread, you know, on Sundays.” Oliver is throwing him a bone, _so you want to be a couple, let’s see it then,_ Connor knows it, so he holds his breath and dares to say the next sentence.

“Really? I never saw any chocolate spread anywhere, were you hiding it?” Oliver chuckles lightly, and says “ Yes, it’s my guilty pleasure, I even try to hide it from myself, bec–“ Connor rushes forward, closes the space between them, lifts one hand up to his face, asking permission to touch him with his eyes, while his tears slowly get the better of him again. Carefully, he rests his hand on Oliver’s cheek, felling the smoothness of his skin, the warmth radiating from his skin, and as he meets his eyes with his own, he curses himself for never realising before how precious it felt to be able to hold Oliver, hold his face, touch it like this, and promises to himself he will never fail to realise this again, well, should he get the chance to touch Oliver’s face again.

Oliver lifts his own hand up to Connor’s face, his thumb stroking the corner of his mouth, he feels it go across his stubbly beard, and come to rest on his neck. Oliver softly pulls him towards him, and kisses him gently on the lips. “This won’t be over just yet, but you’re in no way able to have a proper discussion or even conversation about this right now, so let’s just start with breakfast. We can discuss our issues once you’ve stopped crying whenever I look at you.”

Oliver smirks slightly, and adds “Though it’s a nice development that you now have emotions …“ –“It’s not new, I have... trust me it’s been like this for… a while but I never … allowed myself… to show you, I always tried to turn it into something else, I.. “ He sighs, and instead of talking, wraps both of his hands around Oliver’s waist to pull him into a hug. Was it their first hug, where they didn’t kiss? Connor rests his head on Oliver’s shoulder, briefly, before he realises his face is covered in tears and probably snot, and Oliver is already wearing a shirt for work.

He pulls away slightly, and sees Oliver’s puzzled expression at the sudden change. Quickly, he says “I didn’t want to get your shirt dirty, I’m sorry, –“ He looks at his shoulder to check, and there is, indeed a dark mark where he rested his face moments ago –“I got your shirt dirty, I’m–“ Oliver leans forward, leans his forehead against Connor’s, and looks him straight in the eye. “It’ll survive.” He leans back again, and examines the rest of the contents of the bag with his left hand, while his right hand is still holding Connor’s waist.

Connor breathes out slowly, trying to make himself calm down, if he manages to be calm now, maybe they can figure this out, have a nice breakfast, after last night, and then talk it out later, but patch up the hurt they were both feeling from last night, he just needs to stop crying, really does. Connor lifts his head to Oliver’s ear, whispers a quiet “thank you”, pulls him closer towards him with his left hand, and uses his right hand to hold open the bag, while Oliver takes out a small chocolate bar, and sends Connor a questioning look.

“Is that your way of telling me how sweet I am?” – “No, well yes you are sweet but no this was, I thought you could you know, umm, have it in like your lunch break?” He frowns, laughs, at how pathetically his brain is stringing words together. Oliver chuckles again, and lets go of Connors waist in order to pick up the croissants and the jam, and asks Connor to get a knife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here you go.. Chapter 3! I still have about one chapter left, and I want to write another one for this story, which I hope I can get to at the weekend, I've been super busy this week. If you want you can talk to me on tumblr (rainb0wprincess) or twitter (slush_kitten) it would be super cool :)   
> Also I can't believe this story has more than 1300 hits. like woahh! Thank you so much for reading/leaving kudos/commenting, it honestly makes my day!! xoxo


	4. Nine Across

As Connor opens the drawer, Oliver turns his head slightly to look at him, then frowns as he opens the door to his bedroom. How could this possibly work, why on earth did he just invite him in for breakfast, after what he found out last night? After what happened? I must be crazy. He sighs. “And don’t forget the crosswords” he calls over his shoulder. Connor smiles, yes, but Oliver can still see the desperate look across his face, the pleading in his eyes. Connor either became dangerously good at playing his games, or he really hit rock bottom last night. Oliver hated himself slightly for how much he wished it to be the latter. 

He placed the croissants and the jam carefully on his bedside table, then got on the bed, under the covers, and dived for his pillow to prop himself up against the wall. He looks at Connor, who is hovering on the doorstep again, but now it takes him a lot less time to start moving again. Oliver pats the space next to him and says “We both look like we could do with some breakfast in bed, I think” and tries a slight smile. He is being stupid, he knows it, because how could this fix anything?   
What they really needed to do was talk this out, but Connor was in such a state of shock right now that it wouldn’t do any good. No, calm him down, and maybe talk about this tonight? But he also didn’t want to seem to Connor like he was clinging onto him, demanding to see him all the t– “Thank you. Thank you.” Connor whispered, sitting opposite him with crossed legs, barely under the duvet. He held out the knife, and carried on, slightly louder this time “We can talk this out whenever; I will make time, I promise, how about tonight?” Relief flooded Oliver’s cheeks, though he tried his best not to show it too much, and nodded. “Tonight sounds good. I was thinking that, too.” 

Maybe this could work out after all. Maybe this was the wakeup call Connor had needed. He reaches for the croissants and the jam, not caring about the crumbs his bed would be full of by the time they were done eating. If they really did make up tonight, and talk everything out, then they would, might, maybe have sex in the crumbs of their breakfast together, where they were trying to patch things up. Even though Oliver would probably be the only one finding it cute. If not, washing the linen would be the ideal symbolic way to close this chapter of his life. New sheets. Oliver opens the jam glass, and Connor and he both grab a croissant and knife each. Connor looks at him, curling the corners of his mouth slightly into a smile, and there is such a warm expression in his eyes, like he’s never seen it there before. Or maybe it has been there, but hidden underneath Connor’s fear of… relationships? If what he said really was true. What even was it he was so scared of? Probably a topic for tonight. 

Whenever Oliver had been on his laptop to hack into somewhere that Connor had asked him to, whenever his attention was almost completely focused on something else, he always thought he noticed Connor changing the way he looked at him. But he had always been too scared to look, to check, to verify, so he just kept on imagining, and wishing, that he didn’t imagine it. Maybe this really was it, unfiltered, unhidden. He bit into his croissant, and the sweetness of the raspberry filled his mouth. 

Connor shuffled closer towards him, his croissant still in his mouth. He looked so awkward, so really not on top of his game, that maybe, maybe, he was being honest. Let’s test it. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this awkward while in my bed.” Connor’s eyes widened in shock, and then his shock turned into a smirk, then a laugh, in which Oliver joined in quietly. “Well, eating breakfast in bed is definitely a first for me.” He smiled at him, and then lifted his hand, slowly, hesitantly, he leant forward, moving his hand, until it found its target, which was Oliver’s hand. His hand was still the usual warmth he’d remembered, but the touch felt so different now. A slight shiver went down his neck, and he preferred not to think about exactly what that fuzziness in his stomach was about. 

“But I like it. I really do” Connor said, now sounding more like his usual self, more confident, but his eyes were still red and swollen, and you could still kind of see the dried tears on his cheeks. He looked as broken as Oliver had felt inside last night. Maybe this was all true. He took another bite from his croissant. “You do realise you’re missing out on half the cosiness if you’re just sitting in the middle of the bed, it’s kind of the point to eat while you’re all snuggled up in pillows.” Connor’s face lights up, and he shuffles next to him, almost knocking over the jam jar halfway. Oliver laughs, and dives in to save it, because getting jam over his bed would be really annoying, plus, it would be a waste of jam, to be honest. He holds up the jar, and they both laugh again. 

Well, laughing most certainly is a way to break the tension, and if they were both going to act silly this morning just because of that, then, he would be okay with it. Because it was dangerously easy to get used to Connor, more than used to, Oliver really had started to like Connor’s little habits, ones that Connor himself probably didn’t even realise he had, his way of speaking, his gestures, how he lifted his eyebrows, though he could also be very insightful and clever, well, if he wasn’t trying to get him into bed. Which he did a lot. Not that he really minded. It was strange, no one had ever wanted Oliver, as much as Connor did. Could it even be real? Am I just being too forgiving, because I like being wanted? Because I’m sad and easy and I haven’t had a relationship in a while, and I’m scared of ending up alone? No. No. Stop thinking like this. A second chance. This is all that it is. Everybody deserves a second chance. 

“Whenever you get this quiet it’s usually because you’re caught up in your thoughts, and I do usually want to know them, but this time I feel like I shouldn’t ask because I will hear it tonight…?” Connor asked, his forehead starting to wrinkle again. There was such an earnest expression in his eyes, that Oliver could have punched himself for thinking those thoughts. He raised his hand up to Connor’s cheek bones, and started to slowly rub his thumb across them again. “I don’t think it’s something we can’t fix.” Connor leaned in closer, laid his head on his shoulder, and took another bite from his croissant. He chewed for a while, now seemingly lost in thought, and then replied “Good. I’m glad.” 

He lifted his head slightly to look into his eyes, and Oliver could feel a warm shiver rising up his spine. “Now why don’t you show me why you love crosswords so much? I’m curious.” Oliver smiled, and nodded. “Crosswords are great, you’re in for a treat!” Connor smiled gleefully, not his usual smirk, but a genuine smile, Oliver had slowly come to learn the difference between the two, and he was happy to see it now, as it meant that, maybe, probably, very likely, Connor had been honest, and things would work out. Whatever “things” really was. Oliver really did not want to feel mistreated like last night again.

Connor leaned forward, and reached for the magazines. Oliver put some more jam onto his croissant, and passed the jar over to Connor. He started to flip through the magazine, past the random recipes they always included, and stopped at a promising looking one. They both took another bite from their croissants, and then started tackling “Nine Across”. Oliver felt so happy, and looking at Connor, he seemed to feel the same. Who even cared if he was going to be a little late for work? He could do this all day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is. Cute lovey-doveyness that we all want. ahh I really hope we get one breakfast scene of Coliver on HTGAWM. :3 I'm not sure when I will be able to continue this, because I'll probably be really busy again this week, and I'm going home on the weekend so I will be doing family things, but I do really want to! If you have any ideas for the "talk" or what else should happen, comment down below, or send me an ask on tumblr (rainb0wprincess). 
> 
> And again, thank you so much for reading this. More than 2000 hits, how even :o I'm so happy that you seem to enjoy the story! Lots of love and internet hugs xoxo


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